


so much it's hurting

by rumpledlinen



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Pining, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2018-01-06 12:03:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1106590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rumpledlinen/pseuds/rumpledlinen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He shoves hard enough that Liam actually falls (and they call him the weak one, Niall thinks with no small amount of pride) and climbs on top, pinning Liam down by the wrists.</p><p>“No,” Liam says, low and dangerous, flipping them back over. They go at each other then, kicking and shoving, the bed shaking with them. It’s easy and fun, not like when Niall does this with Louis; he always needs to be the center of everything, always needs to win. Not Liam; Liam just gives as much as he gets and no more, laughs even while he’s pushing Niall’s back down against the bed, hard.</p><p>Niall struggles but he can’t actually get up, and he flops back onto the bed, defeated. He huffs out a laugh. It comes out sort of strangled.</p><p> </p><p>or, Liam and Niall and tickling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	so much it's hurting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [balefully](https://archiveofourown.org/users/balefully/gifts).



> for balefully, who asked for liam/niall and tickling in her prompt. this isn't quite the plot you asked for, but i hope you like it anyway! :) happy holidays. 
> 
> thank you thank you thank you a thousand times over to serena & clare for the betaing! :) you guys were loads of help. 
> 
> disclaimer: this isn't real and i don't own the boys. etc.

 

Niall’s sitting at the edge of his bed, post-show. He’s got his phone in his hand, fingers tapping at the side of his leg as he scrolls through Twitter. He follows a few people, hits favorite on the less weird of some tweets (he’s still not sure why people think tweeting at him how much they want to suck his dick is an all right thing to do; they keep doing it like one day he’s gonna tweet back with a _sure mate come on over ! in rm 302 !_ ), but he can’t shake the manic energy at the edge of his skin.

He flops backwards, throws his phone to the side. He tosses it hard enough that it falls on the floor. He hears a thump that might mean the screen is cracked. He can’t make himself care. (He gets a little bit dramatic near the end of tours. He’s accepted it.)

There’s a knock on the door, but before Niall says anything Liam walks in. His smile is wide. “The others are having a drink in Lou’s room, want to join them?”

Niall sits up and shakes his head, cracking his neck a few times. “Nah, mate. Think I might go for a run, actually.”

Liam laughs, kicks the door shut and sits at the edge of his bed. “You’ve got a room all to yourself for the first time in forever and you’re gonna go out?”

Niall shrugs, standing up to pull on a pair of trackies and a jacket, shoves a beanie on top of his hair. “Too much energy,” he says, “gotta get it out somehow.” He pauses, considers Liam a second. “You’re welcome to join, if you’d like. Unless you’d want to have a drink with the guys.”

Liam smiles, shrugs. “Nah, I’ll go with you.”

There’s a weird, warm feeling in Niall’s stomach at that, but he ignores it, jumping up and jerking his head toward the door. “Let’s go, then.”

 

 

Niall doesn’t feel much better when he gets back, still buzzing with the restless energy, unable to shake it.

Liam looks at him when they’re in the elevator, a slight frown on his face. He nudges Niall with his elbow. “You okay?”

Niall nods his head, quick. “Still—still hyped up, you know? Maybe I should go to the gym,” he says, looking down at himself. That seems like a lot of effort, though, and the fans always manage to find him when he’s there. He doesn’t want to deal with them right now (Harry would admonish him for not appreciating all that they do for us, Niall, but Harry’s not here).

Liam hums, follows Niall to his room. He tugs off his shirt and tosses it onto a pile of Niall’s dirty clothes. “Want to watch a film?” he asks, getting down on his knees to look through Niall’s collection. He sets a few in a pile and brings them to Niall.

Niall nods in a stuttery sort of way. He’s still got that energy thrumming through him, heart beatbeatbeating too fast, but maybe this’ll calm him down; maybe he needs to stop trying to get rid of it, needs to just ignore it. “Yeah,” he says, and nods at _Anchorman_. “Let’s watch that.” He flops onto the bed, watching Liam through half-closed eyes.

Liam rolls his eyes but pops it in. (Niall’s glad it’s him and not Zayn, who won’t watch the movie with him— _it’s not that funny, Niall, and I’ve seen it like a hundred times_ —or Louis, who pretends to know all the words and say them along with the characters.)

“Cuddle?” Niall asks, holding out his arms, because it’s late and he’s exhausted even with all the energy; he just wants to lie down and never get up.

Liam smiles and nods, curling around Niall when he gets to the bed. “You comfortable?” he asks, voice soft in Niall’s ear.

Niall closes his eyes and nods, jerky. The movie’s playing and he’s seen it a thousand times before; it reminds him of home, of his boys, in ways he’s not sure make sense. Liam’s hand is strong and sure around his waist and he runs his thumb over the back of his palm, soft.

Liam makes a happy little noise and presses closer, kissing the top of Niall’s head. “You feeling any better?” he asks.

Niall smiles and nods. He wants to kiss Liam.

And that—well. That’s not a thing he’s really thought about before but he supposes it makes sense; he’s known he fancies blokes for ages, told the boys nearly as soon as he figured it out. Liam’s always been a bit of a mystery on that front, but Niall doesn’t like to assume anything.

Liam’s well fit, anyway, and he’s always there to be Niall’s rock when he needs him. The entire band, really.

“Hey,” Liam murmurs, and his face is so close and he smells like Liam, sweat and that aftershave he’s used for years. “What’s wrong?”

Niall must have stilled, tensed up. He swallows, makes himself breathe. He’s not going to do anything, not until he figures out what anything even is. “Nothing,” he says, “just watching the film.”

“Don’t think I’ve seen you focus this much on _Anchorman_ since, like, 2011,” Liam says with a teasing grin. It makes Niall’s breath catch in his throat. He closes his eyes, sends a quick prayer up that he doesn’t do anything like pop a stiffy in his trackies, not till Liam’s gone.

“Yeah, well,” he says in what he hopes isn’t a suspicious way. He shifts back until he’s lying down and not touching Liam. He can think more clearly now, but the itch is back, just under his skin.

Liam sits up. “Do you want me to leave?”

That’s pretty much the last thing Niall wants. He grins, shoves at Liam lightly. “Nah,” he says with a forced grin.

Liam shoves him back, harder, and Niall frowns. He shoves hard enough that Liam actually falls (and they call him the weak one, Niall thinks with no small amount of pride) and climbs on top, pinning Liam down by the wrists.

“No,” Liam says, low and dangerous, flipping them back over. They go at each other then, kicking and shoving, the bed shaking with them. It’s easy and fun, not like when Niall does this with Louis; he always needs to be the center of everything, always needs to win. Not Liam; Liam just gives as much as he gets and no more, laughs even while he’s pushing Niall’s back down against the bed, hard.

Niall struggles but he can’t actually get up, and he flops back onto the bed, defeated. He huffs out a laugh. It comes out sort of strangled.

Liam’s smirk goes dark (he’s been spending too much time with Louis, Niall thinks) and he runs his fingers, feather-light, up Niall’s sides.  

Niall chokes on another laugh, squirming away from Liam. “Get off!” he half-shouts, the end trailing off in a giggle.

Liam shakes his head, digging his fingers into Niall’s sides.

Niall shrieks, though later he’ll swear it was a manly shout, _of course, shut the fuck up, Louis_. He pushes at Liam, trying to get away, failing.

Liam just grins and keeps tickling him. He presses all of his weight down on Niall, and their hips stutter together. Niall absolutely doesn’t focus on it, doesn’t let his eyes flutter shut for a second. His trackies are already dangerously low on his hips—just a few thrusts and they’d be down and they could—he has to swallow a groan and surges upward, enough that Liam’s hands fall away for a second. He takes the time to breathe, thinks _fuck’s sake_.

Their hips press together again, and Niall has barely a second to wonder if Liam’s dick's hard before Liam’s crawling off him and flopping onto his back, still laughing in that shaky way he does before shows sometimes.

Niall doesn’t say anything. This all feels weirdly delicate like he and Liam haven’t been in years; he wants to break the tension, say something like _so that’s really hot, you should hold me down and tickle me more often_ or _how long has it been since you’ve gotten laid?_ but he doesn’t, just sits there and waits.

The movie plays. On screen, Ron Burgundy’s playing the flute. Liam snorts. “This movie’s terrible,” he says. His voice is weird and soft again, and Niall doesn’t like it, wants to wipe it away.

He gets close again, wills his dick to go the fuck down, and wraps his arm around Liam’s middle, blows a raspberry against his neck. “Yeah,” he says, “but if you tell anyone I told you that I’ll hide all your socks.”

“All of them?” Liam asks with a laugh in his voice, but he sounds back to normal. _Victory_ , Niall thinks.

They fall asleep with the film playing.

 

 

Later, when Niall’s in the shower, he remembers it. All Liam’s attention on him, his face so intent, his hips pressing downward—

Niall’s hard, and he doesn’t think before stroking over his cock, back pressed up against the shower wall like he was pressed against the floor. He’s never really associated tickling with sex before, but it would have been so easy to grab Liam and kiss him, shift his hips up until they both got off right there on the floor, turn the manic energy into something else, something more.

He comes with a hiss and his palm between his teeth, shaking.

So jerking off to Liam is a thing he does now, apparently; he stares at himself in the mirror after, head cocked to the side.

It’s just a sex thing; he wants Liam to hold him down, take control. He takes a deep breath and lets it whistle out through his teeth.

He can do this.

 

 

One day they’re at dinner and Liam laughs as he licks his spoon clean, and Niall can imagine that mouth wrapped around his cock, Liam’s big brown eyes staring up at him.

He has to excuse himself, go will his dick down in the bathroom.

He can’t stop thinking about Liam, is the thing, imagines getting on his own knees for him, and that’s not necessarily something he’s wanted before but—it’s Liam. He wants Liam’s big hands holding him down, eyes dark and focused on him.

He looks at himself in the mirror. His eyes are wide, mouth open. He looks wrecked just thinking about it. _Fuck_ , he thinks.

When he goes back out, Liam smiles at him, tilts his head in a question.

Niall brushes it off, sits down and tries to relax his heart.

 

 

It keeps happening. Every fucking time they get off stage and Niall’s full of energy, or Liam is, they tackle each other and it always, always devolves into tickling, Niall flat on his back and Liam up over him, grinning, focused like he always is when he cares about something. Every time, it gets harder to remember why Niall can’t just kiss him, just let his head tilt back and thrust his hips up.

Niall tries his hardest not to get hard, let himself be affected—but then Liam grabs both of his wrists in one hand and holds them over Niall'ls head, tickles over his stomach, soft, almost intimate. He’s biting his lip and Niall’s suddenly achingly hard.

He closes his eyes for half a second and opens them, shrugging and pushing up against Liam’s hand. He sucks in a sharp breath but keeps struggling.

Liam’s grin fades when he realizes what Niall’s doing. “Niall—you okay?”

Niall smiles and nods. “Gotta take a piss,” he says, goes into the bathroom and all but slams the door shut.

He braces himself against the wall and barely has a hand around himself before he’s close to coming, heart racing unsteadily. He comes with a hand over his mouth, whispers _Liam_ into his skin.

Liam’s out there when he gets back, eyes wide and pleading. “I’m sorry,” he starts. “I mean—holding you down, I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

 _You’ve got no fucking idea_ , Niall thinks, but he just sits down next to him after he pulls on a pair of sweats, grins wide and lazy. “No problem, mate. It wasn’t you, don’t worry. I just really had to piss.”

Liam smiles, but it’s shaky and Niall doesn’t quite believe it.

 _Fuck_ , he thinks, almost wild with it.

He can hide this, though; he can hide the want burning through him. He can hide his fucking crush; he’s not actually thirteen years old..

 

 

Liam spends the night, and they stay on the bed together. Niall’s heartbeat slows to the pace of Liam’s and he reaches out, wants more than anything to touch.

He doesn’t want to fuck, really; he wants to lie here with him, wants Liam to be here when he wakes up and every other time.

 _Oh_ , he thinks, and everything becomes roughly a thousand percent more complicated.

  
  


 

Niall’s lying on his bed, flicking through the TV channels. It’s his last night in a hotel and Louis is bunking with Harry (Niall doesn’t want to know the shit they get up to). He’s going to make the most of it, watch what he wants and try his hardest to appreciate the bed he has all to himself.

There’s a knock on his door. Everyone’s got keys to everyone else’s room, so Niall doesn’t get up, just shouts “It's open!”

Liam pokes his head through the door. “Can I come in?” he asks.

It’s horrible, how awkward it’s gotten since that night. Liam keeps tiptoeing around Niall, like now that he knows how hard Niall gets when they do whatever the fuck it is that they do he’s got to be careful. It’s shit, honestly.

Niall nods, though, tossing the clicker to the side. He runs a hand over his face, groaning.

The bed dips with Liam’s weight. He’s just showered, smells like Zayn’s shampoo and Harry’s soap and underneath it all his own aftershave. (Niall’s pretty sure Liam could get his own things if he really wanted some, but it’s easier for all of them to share.)

Niall looks between his fingers and drops his hands, breathing out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry,” he says.

Liam frowns. It’s kind of adorable. “What?” He shifts closer, enough that he can rest his hand on Niall’s hip.

And really, that’s not fair; his fingers are tracing little patterns and his face is so open, so earnest.

Niall has a thousand things to say, that he should say (an explanation for the apology, for one) but instead he leans up and kisses him, hand wrapping around the back of Liam’s neck.

Liam goes very, very still.

Niall pulls back, biting his lip. “Uh,” he says, avoiding Liam’s eyes because he’s gone and fucked it up—

Liam kisses him, and Niall’s thoughts go white.

It starts out innocently enough (and honestly, Niall’s proud of that, what with everything that’s happened the past couple of weeks) but then Liam groans, and rolls his hips hard against Niall’s.

Niall stutters out a sharp gasp and grabs Liam’s hips, presses his hips up. He’s hard enough that he’s dizzy with it, wants more, everything.

“No,” Liam murmurs, and kisses at Niall’s neck, grabbing his hands and pinning them above his head.

Niall’s entire brain blacks out for a long moment; then he breathes out a shaky breath and nods at Liam’s look of concern.

“Fuck,” he gets out, barely audible over Liam’s panting.

Liam smirks, low and dirty.

Niall’s stomach twists.

Liam can hold both of his wrists down with one hand. It’s like before as much as it isn’t, because now when Liam tickles him, fingers pressing just under his ribs, he also grinds down against Niall hard.

Niall moans, biting down on his lower lip to keep it in.

“None of that,” Liam gets out, and his voice is shaking. He sounds as wrecked as Nial, which makes Niall feel better about the whole thing. “Want to—want to hear what I’m doing to you, fuck.”

Niall arches his back and nods, using all his strength to try to get his hands up, struggle against Liam’s holding him down. “Yeah,” he breathes out when Liam bends down to take a nipple into his mouth, biting hard enough to leave a bruise. “Fuck,” he hisses out, voice at the edge of a laugh. Liam’s still tickling him, and it’s this side of too much, almost painful.

“What do you want?” Liam asks, voice lower than Niall’s ever heard it before. He kisses his way up Niall’s neck before biting down, sharp. “Tell me, babe.” He sounds breathless, already fucked out.

Niall can barely breathe, much less focus enough to talk. “You,” he manages, and then Liam tickles him and it combines with his scruff, scratchy against his neck, and he laughs and moans and comes, all over his stomach.

Liam sits up, staring down at him.

Niall looks up, suddenly shy. “Uh,” he says. “If you give me another chance, I swear I can last longer than that?”

And then Liam’s on him, letting go to hold Niall’s face between his hands. “You’re so fucking hot,” Liam breathes into Niall’s mouth. “Fuck, you—” He cuts himself off, grinds down against Niall again, searching for friction.

Niall lifts his knee up to give something for Liam to rut against. He’d offer a hand, but he’s pretty exhausted, can barely focus on kissing Liam properly. “I’ll—I’ll do it proper later,” he gets out, voice rough. Liam moans, lifting his head up to press it against Niall’s shoulder and rocking back and forth insistently.

“Fuck,” he groans out.

“Want to suck you,” Niall says, eyes shut tight. His dick gives a little twitch; if Liam keeps doing that, keeps pressing him down hard while he fucks against him, he thinks he could go again in a few minutes. “Get down on my knees and get my mouth around you, want—”

Liam kisses him hard enough to bruise and comes, gasping out wetly into Niall’s mouth.

For a long moment, they just lie there. Liam’s half-collapsed on Niall, though, and Niall shoves at him. “You’re heavy,” he groans, but he can’t keep the fondness out of his voice. “And gross.” He tugs off his bottoms and tosses them off the side of the bed, wipes at the come on his stomach with the tissues on the side table.

Liam does the same and then curls into him, naked. This is definitely a thing Niall can get used to. “Mmm,” Liam says, and kisses Niall’s cheek. His eyes are shut, a sleepy smile on his face. “You don’t mind,” he says without opening them, like there’s been no time between their conversation. “You like when I hold you down.”

Niall shrugs. He’s not embarrassed, really. “So d’you.”

“I do,” Liam nods. He squints one eye open. “We’re good, yeah?” he asks.

As though it’s even a question. Niall snorts. “Of course we are.”

“Good,” Liam says. He pauses. “Are we going to do it, then?”

“Do what?” Niall breathes, halfway asleep.

“Well, you’re the only one I want to fuck, and I’m wondering if that can be a thing.” He sounds casual, but Niall’s known him long enough, can hear the worry trapped behind the words.

His heart gives a leap but he’s too tired to focus on that right now. He grins and throws his leg over Liam’s waist. “Exclusive,” he teases, nosing at Liam’s neck. He laughs, nodding. “Yeah, sounds good.”

“Yeah?”

Niall rolls his eyes. “Shut up and take a nap.”

The last thing he hears before he falls asleep is Liam’s laugh, the last thing he feels Liam’s hand in his hair, threading through it softly.

 

 

The sky is dark outside when he wakes up. His muscles are pleasantly sore. He cracks his neck, smiling. They’ve got a show today; he should really get back to sleep, but he doesn’t want to.

Next to him, Liam snuffles and reaches for him. Niall pats his hand, just looking at him for a long moment.

His heart does a funny thing.

Liam wants him back, Liam wants him back. He reaches out, rests his hand over Liam’s chest. His heart’s beating steady, sure.

Niall curls up next to him again, energy deflated. He lies there in the dark for a long time, just watching Liam’s chest rise and fall.

It’s comfortable. He could get used to this, waking up with Liam next to him.

And—maybe that’s something he can have.

The thought makes him smile, curl closer and kiss Liam’s shoulder.

Liam hums and tilts his head over, kisses Niall’s head sleepily. “‘wake?” he murmurs, blinking.

Niall swallows, doesn’t blurt out _I love you_. It’s a close call. “Yeah, sorry,” he says. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

Liam huffs out a laugh. It comes out scratchy. “Liar,” he says.

Niall shrugs, smiling at the edge of his lips. “You can go back to sleep if you want,” he says, “I won’t keep you.”

Liam bites his lip and tosses his leg over Niall’s, thrusting his hips lazily downward. “You could convince me to stay up,” he breathes, kissing the spot just behind Niall’s ear. “Only if you wanted, of course.”

Niall’s breath comes out sharp. He groans. “You’re gonna kill me,” he says, and looks at Liam under his lashes. “Want me to blow you?” he asks, getting his fist loosely around Liam’s cock and stroking, slow.

Liam’s eyelashes flutter and he nods, lying on his back. Niall kisses his neck, moving his way down his body slowly. He bites at the inside of Liam’s thigh, looking at him under his lashes.

“Fuck,” Liam says. He spreads his legs wider, swallows as he looks down at Niall.

Niall licks over his teeth and then the base of Liam’s cock.

Liam swears and his hand goes to Niall’s head, not pushing, just resting. “Niall,” he says, voice strangled.

Niall grins and gets to it, wrapping his fist around the base and licking at the head. He sucks shallowly at first and then really goes for it, forgoing teasing in favor of watching Liam come.

Liam’s hips are shaking with the effort of being still.

Niall pulls off, watching him, considering. “You can move,” he says. He’s not really sure—it’s been a while since he’s sucked a guy off, and his jaw already aches a little bit—but he wants to, fuck, wants to let Liam take control even in this.

Liam’s eyes fly open. He nods down at Niall, fingers tightening in his hair. “I,” he starts, and Niall wraps his lips around him.

Liam starts out slow, hips rocking up at a steady, even pace. It’s good; Niall relaxes his throat and he doesn’t gag. He hums around him.

“Oh—oh fuck,” Liam groans, fucking up hard a few times, enough that Niall does gag—and then he’s coming with a long, drawn-out moan, head pressed back against the sheets.

Niall swallows and kisses the inside of his thigh before sitting up, grinning. His own dick’s so hard it hurts, but that can wait until Liam looks a little less like he’s just had his mind blown. (He laughs at the pun.)

“How was that, then?” Niall asks. He can’t keep the smugness out of his voice.

Liam rolls his eyes and pulls him down for a rough kiss. It only takes a few strokes of his hand before Niall’s coming all over Liam’s stomach. He bites Liam’s shoulder when he does, muffling his groan into his skin.

Liam pats his head, lazy.

Niall looks at the clock; it’s three in the morning. “We’ve got a few hours,” he says, eyelids heavy. “We could sleep more.”

Liam raises an eyebrow as he looks Niall up and down. He bites his lip. “Or,” he says.

Niall’s heart starts to race, his dick giving a feeble twitch. “Or?”

“Or,” Liam says, grinning, “you could fuck me.” His voice goes impossibly low when he says it, more a growl than anything else.

Niall’s eyes nearly roll back into his head, and he’s nodding before he’s even really processed the words. “Yes,” he says, “yeah, that’d be great.”

“Want to ride you,” Liam says, reaching over to grab a bottle of lube and a condom. “Want to watch your face while you fuck me.”

“Jesus Christ,” Niall says. His dick’s nearly all the way hard again, straining up against his stomach. He kisses Liam, softer, more gentle than before. “Would’ve kissed you ages ago if I knew it’d turn you into such a sex demon,” he laughs against Liam’s mouth.

Liam pulls back, pursing his lips. He looks almost worried, which is the stupidest thing in the world.

Niall pulls him back down, rolling his eyes at his hesitance. “It’s not a bad thing,” he says. “‘s incredibly hot. Just wish we’d have figured it out before our last night in hotels for a while, yeah?”

Liam’s face clears and his grin goes dark, an echo of Louis when he’s thought of a good prank. “I dunno,” he says, trailing his fingers down Niall’s sides.

Niall shifts, that stupid giggle-moan combination happening again. “What?” he gets out, waiting for Liam to continue.

Liam shrugs, biting his lower lip. He kisses Niall, quick, and then sits up where he’s straddling him. “Could be fun, to be on the bus,” he says. “You’d have to be quiet, though.” He presses his thumb against Niall’s mouth.

Niall sucks it in without a thought, cheeks hollowing around it.

Liam’s gaze is heavy, eyes almost glassy where they’re watching him. He pulls his hand back, gets the lube and pours it over his fingers.

“Yeah?” Niall asks, staying where he is; he’d love to do it himself but he’s waiting for Liam to tell him to do so, fingers clenching the sheets. “You could fuck me in the beds while the rest of the boys are watching a film,” he says.

“You’d have to k-keep your mouth shut,” Liam says, fucking himself on two fingers. His other hand clenches in the sheet, eyes fluttering shut. “Wouldn’t be able to-to make any noise, they’d know.”

“You could shut me up,” Niall says, “cover my mouth with your hand and—”

Liam’s eyes fly open. “That’s it,” he says. Niall’s almost afraid he’s done something wrong, gone too far, but then Liam’s grabbing the condom and sliding it down over Niall’s dick, lining himself up and sinking down slowly.

Niall groans, a long, drawn-out thing. He can barely keep his eyes open. Liam’s so tight, is the thing, so tight and warm and it’s so slow, he can barely stand it.

“Good?” Liam asks, rocking his hips a little faster. “God,” he whispers, instead of waiting for Niall’s answer. “You’re so—so good, fucking—” He starts properly fucking himself down then, and Niall reaches up to kiss him, hot and filthy.

“Fuck,” Niall whimpers. He can barely rock his hips up, but Liam knows what he’s doing, gasping out little breaths into Niall’s mouth.

“Fucking love you,” Liam whimpers, hips stuttering. He comes all over both of their stomachs, slowing down while he breathes.

Niall’s pretty sure that if he doesn’t come in the next, like, minute, he’s going to die. “Can I flip us over?” he asks, trying his hardest to keep his voice steady.

“Mmm,” Liam murmurs, so Niall does.

It doesn’t take long at all of him fucking downhard into Liam before he’s coming, too, Liam nodding with his eyes half-shut.

Niall breathes out, hard. “God,” he groans. “That’s it. You’ve ruined me for anybody else.”

Liam laughs, almost breathless with it. “That good, eh?”

“Shut up, you know you were fantastic,” Niall breathes. He wipes them down again, wincing at the bits of dried come on his stomach. “Fancy a shower?”

“Want a nap,” Liam says, but he follows Niall willingly enough to the bathroom.

They kiss lazily in the shower when they’re both clean. Niall’s dick is sore, his everything is sore, and it’s enough to just stand here and have Liam, tilt his head up to kiss him.

“I meant it, you know,” Liam says, when they’re in pajamas, crawling back into bed for a couple hours’ nap. The sun’s coming up over the horizon, but Niall’s so knackered he thinks he could sleep through anything.

“What’s that?” Niall asks.

“I love you,” Liam says, grinning. He bumps their noses together.

Niall rolls his eyes. “I’m dating a sap who says I love you when I’m fucking him,” he says, but he can’t keep the fondness out of his voice.

Liam just watches him, blinking lazily.

“All right, I love you, too,” Niall says, rolling his eyes again. He kisses the tip of Liam’s nose. “But if you don’t let me get a nap before all of our interviews I’m going to make a bunch of sexual comments during every one of them and I’m going to enjoy watching you squirm.”

Liam chokes on his breath.

Niall grins. (He’s maybe learned a thing or two from Louis, too.)

“Fine,” Liam says after a second. He sounds very put-upon. Niall loves him sort of a lot.

He falls asleep between one breath and the next, Liam’s soft snores lulling him down.

 

 

He’s never enjoyed singing Little Things as much as he does that night; he sings _I’m in love with you and all your little things_ and a happy little bubble pops in his chest, makes him smile down stupidly at his guitar.

When he chances a look up, Liam’s just watching him, a content smile on his face.

“It’s you they add up to,” Liam sings, and doesn’t take his eyes off Niall.

Harry looks between the two of them and groans. Between songs he goes over to Niall, grabbing his hip and whispering in his ear.

“You guys hooked up?” he asks, soft enough that the mikes don’t pick it up.

Niall stares at the audience, doesn’t let himself smile like he wants to. He nods, once; it’s almost businesslike.

“Good for you, mate,” Harry says. He slaps Niall’s arse as he walks away.

 

 

Later, Liam grabs Niall’s arse and presses Niall up against the wall, rolling their hips together insistently until Niall’s laughing.

“God, calm down, it was just Harry,” he says, giggling.

Liam shrugs, and kisses him again. “Mine,” he says, like a fucking caveman.

“Yours,” Niall agrees, and lets Liam palm him into another orgasm, right there in the dressing room, the rest of the boys just outside.

 

 

“You know I don’t really mind Harry touching you, right?” Liam asks, when it’s later later, when it’s dark and they’re on the bus together.

Niall scoots over so they can lie together on his bed. He nods, kissing the top of Liam’s head. “Know you’re not really a caveman,” he says, “but you can pretend to be if you like. S’hot.”

“Yeah?” Liam asks.

Niall smiles, eyes shut already. He nods again. “Course, babe.”

“All right.” Liam wraps an arm around him and they fall asleep, the bus moving on.


End file.
